


First Fight

by MyckiCade



Series: We'll Start With One [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slash, Tumblr Prompt, hurtful words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:15:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyckiCade/pseuds/MyckiCade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You really think I’d fall in love with you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf. I am not that clever. This work is for fan enjoyment only. No infringement is intended.

_You really think I’d fall in love with you?_

Stiles sniffles, fighting back the desire to break into another sob as he shoves a handful of t-shirts into his bag. They are soon joined by a pair of jeans, two pair of boxers, and some socks. He doesn’t bother to check what’s clean, and what’s not. It just doesn’t matter, not right now.

The bathroom is the next thing to get cleared out, Stiles pulling his shampoo from the shower, his toothbrush from the sink, and a bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet. Everything is haphazardly tossed in with his clothing, no rhyme or reason to his methods.

It just… doesn’t  _matter._

_Shouldn’t have gotten involved with a stupid kid like you._

The words are on an unbidden loop in his mind, and he just can’t shake them. They’d been thrown at him with such malice, such seething  _hatred_  that he…  _He_ …

They’re done, that’s the gist of it. Stiles reminds himself of that fact as he zips up his bag, tries to convince himself that he deserves  _better,_  better than some egotistical, self-centered  _jackass_ that seemed to want nothing more than to rip his still-beating heart out of his chest, and tap dance over its final pulses.

He’s not wanted here. He doesn’t want to be here.

Their first argument. Their last.

Taking one last look around, Stiles flings his bag over his shoulder, and makes his way out the door. The force with which he slams it shut is slightly cathartic.

* * *

_You’re nothing but a fucking animal, you know that?_

Ignoring the rain that soaks his hair, causing the strands to stick to his face, Peter closes his eyes. He drops his head back against the window, pulling back and repeating the action several times. The apartment next to his and Sti-well, likely just  _his,_  again, is still vacant, and he doesn’t feel bad about occupying their window sill.

What has his gut twisting is worse than a little trespassing.

He could still hear Stiles’ heartbeat, could tell that his mate was distressed. Yet, he felt very little yearn to go back and fix the situation. Not yet. So far as the younger male was concerned, Peter was just some filthy creature he allowed himself to share a bed with.

_Can’t believe I let you_ touch me.

Peter cringes, all of the implications of that admission flickering through his mind in a steady flow. If Stiles has ever felt violated… it’s never reached his ears. His nose. He’s had no way to _know._

The front door slams, and Peter nearly flinches himself off of the sill. It’s the final death sentence to their relationship, one that his heart isn’t ready to let go of, but, what can he do? How can he look at Stiles again, knowing what his once-lover thinks of him? It’s not possible. It’s better to leave Stiles believing that he never loved the crazy, spastic young man in the first place. Maybe, he will move on, a bit faster. Maybe, it will help him to forget.

If anyone is to see, they will only notice the rain tracking down the sides of Peter’s face. A foolish, heartbroken old man sitting out in the middle of the storm.

He contemplates packing a bag of his own.


End file.
